sudden churn in her stomach, the one that reminded her of other arguments, other secrets, she pressed, “What don’t you want them to know?”
For a moment she thought he was going to ignore the question, or outright lie. But then he met her eyes. “I don’t have any right to ask you to trust me.”
The churn got worse. “Damn right you don’t.”
“I’m asking anyway. Let me go. I have to find Keban and the artifacts on my own. It’s important.”
For a second, she saw a flash of the boy who had saved her, the young man she had loved. Problem was, she wasn’t sure if that was real or calculated. “You want me to tell Strike I couldn’t find you?”
“I want you to go back to your life.” His expression darkened almost imperceptibly. “And I want you to live this next year like it’s your last, just in case it is.”
Somehow, that hit her harder than any of the strategy sessions she’d sat in on at Skywatch. During those meetings, the magi and winikin had talked about the barrier and their enemies—both earthly and demonic—and the first real stirrings of war, but now she realized that part of her had held itself apart, treating the threats as another set of stories. Fiction. Maybe a big, flashy movie.
Dez’s words, though, made her picture Denver a year from now, full of harried shoppers ramping up to do the holiday thing while bitching about the cold, and then—
Gone.
A shudder crawled down her spine at the thought, another as she tried to put herself into the picture. The offer was still open for Rabbit to tweak things so she could go back to that life, blissfully unaware that the tinfoil hatters had it right when it came to the countdown. Or she could return with her memories intact and, like Dez said, live the next year like it was her last. But those pictures refused to form. How could they, now that she knew about the Nightkeepers, knew what they were trying to do?
“I’m not playing you,” Dez said when she was silent too long. “And I’m not going to hurt the Nightkeepers. I swear it on my sister′s soul.”
It was the same oath he had used to convince her to go with him on that very first night in the warehouse tunnels. Back then she had sensed his honor and loyalty, had believed he would keep her safe. Now, when she looked at the older, tougher version standing opposite her with magic burning bright in the air around him, she saw an achingly familiar stranger. He had an earnest intensity that made her want to believe. But history repeated itself, and theirs wasn’t good. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—trust him. Yet her instincts said that she should let him go, that it wasn’t time yet for him to be found. More, they said he needed help.
“Time to choose.” Dez looked past her, up toward the road. “The cavalry is here.” Sure enough, sirens throbbed just at the level of her hearing, then grew louder. He glanced back at her. “You going to let me go this time?”
She blew out a breath and went with her gut. “Not exactly. I’m coming with you.”
His face blanked for a second, then clouded. “No fucking way,” he said flatly. “That is not an option.”
“Newsflash number two: You’re not calling the shots here.” Which was new, she realized. “So it’s time for you to choose: You want to stay out in the field chasing your winikin , we do it together. Otherwise, I’m bringing you in.” When he stayed stubbornly silent, she tipped up her chin. “Unless your Spidey senses are seriously long-range, you’re going to need help finding Keban.”
The first responders had arrived: The aah-woo, aah-woo of a police car was followed closely by the bwip-bwip of an ambulance, and colored lights strobed Keban’s crumpled car.
“Damn it . . . ” Dez glanced up at the road, then back at her, and his voice dropped. “This is some serious shit, Reese. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Losing you hurt. Every. Single. Time. She didn’t say that, though, because
For a moment she thought he was going to ignore the question, or outright lie. But then he met her eyes. “I don’t have any right to ask you to trust me.”
The churn got worse. “Damn right you don’t.”
“I’m asking anyway. Let me go. I have to find Keban and the artifacts on my own. It’s important.”
For a second, she saw a flash of the boy who had saved her, the young man she had loved. Problem was, she wasn’t sure if that was real or calculated. “You want me to tell Strike I couldn’t find you?”
“I want you to go back to your life.” His expression darkened almost imperceptibly. “And I want you to live this next year like it’s your last, just in case it is.”
Somehow, that hit her harder than any of the strategy sessions she’d sat in on at Skywatch. During those meetings, the magi and winikin had talked about the barrier and their enemies—both earthly and demonic—and the first real stirrings of war, but now she realized that part of her had held itself apart, treating the threats as another set of stories. Fiction. Maybe a big, flashy movie.
Dez’s words, though, made her picture Denver a year from now, full of harried shoppers ramping up to do the holiday thing while bitching about the cold, and then—
Gone.
A shudder crawled down her spine at the thought, another as she tried to put herself into the picture. The offer was still open for Rabbit to tweak things so she could go back to that life, blissfully unaware that the tinfoil hatters had it right when it came to the countdown. Or she could return with her memories intact and, like Dez said, live the next year like it was her last. But those pictures refused to form. How could they, now that she knew about the Nightkeepers, knew what they were trying to do?
“I’m not playing you,” Dez said when she was silent too long. “And I’m not going to hurt the Nightkeepers. I swear it on my sister′s soul.”
It was the same oath he had used to convince her to go with him on that very first night in the warehouse tunnels. Back then she had sensed his honor and loyalty, had believed he would keep her safe. Now, when she looked at the older, tougher version standing opposite her with magic burning bright in the air around him, she saw an achingly familiar stranger. He had an earnest intensity that made her want to believe. But history repeated itself, and theirs wasn’t good. She shouldn’t—couldn’t—trust him. Yet her instincts said that she should let him go, that it wasn’t time yet for him to be found. More, they said he needed help.
“Time to choose.” Dez looked past her, up toward the road. “The cavalry is here.” Sure enough, sirens throbbed just at the level of her hearing, then grew louder. He glanced back at her. “You going to let me go this time?”
She blew out a breath and went with her gut. “Not exactly. I’m coming with you.”
His face blanked for a second, then clouded. “No fucking way,” he said flatly. “That is not an option.”
“Newsflash number two: You’re not calling the shots here.” Which was new, she realized. “So it’s time for you to choose: You want to stay out in the field chasing your winikin , we do it together. Otherwise, I’m bringing you in.” When he stayed stubbornly silent, she tipped up her chin. “Unless your Spidey senses are seriously long-range, you’re going to need help finding Keban.”
The first responders had arrived: The aah-woo, aah-woo of a police car was followed closely by the bwip-bwip of an ambulance, and colored lights strobed Keban’s crumpled car.
“Damn it . . . ” Dez glanced up at the road, then back at her, and his voice dropped. “This is some serious shit, Reese. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Losing you hurt. Every. Single. Time. She didn’t say that, though, because
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